


Bored

by archangelwithashotgun



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby Winchesters, Caring John Winchester, Dean is a Good Brother, Fluff, Gen, Nice John, One Word Prompts, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wee!chesters, Weechesters, Young Winchesters, sam is bored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelwithashotgun/pseuds/archangelwithashotgun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bored (German / Old English): feeling weary because one is unoccupied or lacks interest in one's current activity.</p>
<p>Little Sammy gets bored, so he and Dean make a play fort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bored

**Author's Note:**

> Good friend of mine recommended I write more fluff. She also said once that there wasn't enough Wee!chester fics with fluff, so this idea was born with her prompt! Hope you all enjoy!

“ _Dee_!”

9-year-old Dean Winchester quickly glanced up from his math homework, extremely grateful for the distraction from mind-numbing fractions. He frowned lightly at his little brother, twisting a little in his chair to face him. “What, Sammy?”

4-year-old Sam Winchester grinned, his smile wide and slightly gapped from where he lost a tooth last week, and bounded up to the kitchen table where his brother was. He gripped the edge of the table with tiny hands, his fingers barely holding on as he jumped repeatedly and enthusiastically, his thick hair bouncing with the movement.

“Dee, I’m _boooored_!” Sam sang.

Dean sighed; he should have known Sam wanted to play. “Sammy, I gotta finish my homework or Dad’s gonna get mad. Then I’m gonna make some Spaghettios for you and him for when he gets back from work.”

Sam stopped his jumping, and instantly armed himself with his greatest weapon:

A bottom-lip pout and gleaming puppy-dog eyes.

“ _Pleeeease_?”

Sam dragged the word out into a genuine plea, and Dean crumbled.

“ _Okay_ , okay, what do you wanna do?” Dean said, closing his workbook and standing from the chair. Sam’s smile was back, even wider and brighter than before.

Thirty minutes later, both boys were laughing merrily as they rolled around in their newly-created fort made between the two motel beds, a blanket spread across the opening as a makeshift ‘roof,’ the other thrown over the edge to close them inside, and throw pillows from the couch splayed on the floor beneath them.

Dean jumped as he heard the familiar, muffled sound of the Impala’s rumble outside the room. John was home. Immediately, Dean threw an arm over Sam, raising a finger to his lips.

“ _Shhh. Quiet, Sammy. Maybe Dad won’t see us_ ,” Dean whispered dramatically, glancing toward the door.

Sam giggled shrilly and pressed both palms against his mouth in an effort to keep quiet.

Soon enough, they heard the driver’s side door open and slam shut, boots thudding against the wooden porch, and the key twisting in their lock. Sam was quivering in gleeful anticipation, tiny spurts of giggles making their way past his hands. Dean grinned and laid prone on the ground as they waited with bated breath.

The door open and the footsteps grew louder as John entered the room, and Dean could see John’s steel-toed boots pause in their movement through the little slit between the floor and the blanket.

“Well, now,” John’s voice echoed in the room, and Dean could hear the door close. “Where are my boys?”

John was in a good mood today, and that made Dean grin wider; John rarely ever found time to play around with him and Sam, usually too tired from “work” to muster up the energy. These occasions were few and far between, and Dean’s heart raced with delight at their father’s playful tone.

Dean could hear John’s footsteps getting closer, and he gathered Sam even closer, biting his lip to keep his laughter in check. Sam wasn’t doing well in that aspect; his eyes got progressively bigger in size the closer John got, small little squeaks and giggles still escaping him.

“Huh.” John’s footsteps walked over to the right. “Not here.” Some rustling. “Not there.”

His footsteps came to a stop right in front of them.

“Sam? Dean? Now where, oh where, did those two little _runts_ —“

The blanket was wrenched back, revealing John’s beaming face. Though he had known he was going to happen, Dean still yelped in surprise, the suspense of the game causing him to laugh up at his father, and Sam squealed loudly, giggling like crazy while his tiny hands clapped together.

“Daddy!” Sam cried happily, reaching up with both arms.

“There you are!” John rejoiced, scooping up Sam, who was practically shrieking with laughter, and depositing him on his hip with a hearty laugh. Dean stood up, and John reached over with his free hand and ruffled Dean’s hair. “Now where do you boys get off on hiding from your old man, huh?”

“Deeeee!” Sam accused happily, pointing at his older brother.

Dean smirked and lightly swatted Sam’s dangling leg.

John chuckled. “Alright, boys. Sorry, but time to clean this up. We’re gonna have some dinner now.”

Instantly, dread filled Dean, and his prior amusement disappeared in a flash as his eyes got wide. “Oh Dad, I-I didn’t get to—“

“Don’t worry about it, Dean, it’s okay,” John said, waving away his son’s frantic apology. “What do you say to takeout pizza? Sound good?”

“Yeah! Pizza!” Sam celebrated.

Relieved, Dean nodded with a grin.

Maybe Sam should get bored more often.


End file.
